** Scroll down for the Raizada family tree if you need a refresher **
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If anyone had told Arnav six months ago that he would be a restaurant owner once again, he would have personally booked them an appointment with the city's best psychiatrist.
Because he had accepted, a long time ago, that like Myra, even his future in the culinary arts had taken a permanent leave from his life. And for good reason, too. He still had many years left in chef training, most of his time nowadays was occupied with handing his father's company and most important of all, his confidence –the same confidence that had plummeted to its death when he had to sell his last restaurant– was hiding in a very dingy corner of his mind, refusing to come out. It was as obvious as the sky outside that there was no way he would be capable of running a restaurant ever again.
He couldn't have been more wrong.
And that too, for only one reason: he had utterly, wholly and idiotically underestimated the tiny little human, who had crept into his life like ominous smoke and settled in like a deep-rooted Jasmine tree that turned even mundaneness into magnificence with its mere scent.
Two solid weeks had passed since Arnav's twenty-eighth birthday, and he was still having a hard time getting over what his legally wedded wife had given him that night or for that matter, what she had told him amidst the unusual celebrations, half covered in flour:
You are not answerable to me because what is mine, is yours. You and I are the same.
How did she do it? How did she find faith in him when he couldn't himself? How did she trust him with all her savings, asking –no, demanding– him to chase his dreams? How could she give him everything she had and not ask for anything in return?
It was deeply alarming. All these days, he had thought than he and Khushi were companions, allies in callous situations, innocent partners unbounded by expectations, friends who valued in each other respect and understanding.
But what if there was more?
Arnav couldn't forget, even if he tried to, the feeling that had engulfed him when he had hugged her that night. It was exhilaration like no other. Her embrace had been so warm, her fragrance –a mix of flowers he couldn't name and freshly mowed earth– so tantalizing, her body so soft. It felt as though he was coming home after years of wandering, as though he was seeing shore after ages at sea, as though as he was feeling sunlight on his face after eons in jail.
Why he did he feel like that?
They couldn't be mere 'companions' if all he could think about was the feel of her against him. They couldn't be just 'allies' if all he wanted was to hug her like that again. They couldn't be 'innocent partners' if he was stealing glances at her whenever she wasn't looking. And they sure as hell couldn't only be 'friends' if he had to constantly keep thoughts of her off his mind.
Somehow and somewhere in the past few days, the subtle lines between him and her had begun to change. Some were blurring, some, transforming and others, just vanishing. And the weirdest part of it all? He was enjoying it.
He enjoyed teasing her about her absolutely expected, and yet undeniably average cooking skills; it riled her up to no end, and he took the utmost pleasure in watching her pout for the next half hour. He enjoyed admiring her while she lounged on the sofa, pretending to watch TV; she had absolutely no patience to sit through any web series, and he only realized how much he enjoyed watching her try to concentrate when he ended up getting a headache the next day for smiling too much. And most of all, he enjoyed the jitters that overtook him every time he was around her, causing him to blabber without logic most of the time; she laughed heartily in answer, so he forgot how stupid he must've sounded very quickly after.
And the cherry on top of it all, was her unwavering support in every minute decision of his restaurant.
They had finally gone to see the place last weekend –the owner had insisted on having some extra time to prepare his staff for their arrival– and from the second Arnav had stepped foot inside, he had been instantly in love. It was bigger than the last one he had owned, having a capacity to hold at least seventy-five people at once, an elaborate kitchen that wasn't being used to its full capacity and a management team that was eager to impress (and also, deeply fearful of being let go).
Arnav didn't have to even wait for them to serve a five-course meal, prepared specifically for him, to sign the deal. And from then, there had been no looking back.
Using his –almost healed– broken leg as an excuse, Arnav continued to manage Raziada Industries from home, using the time he got in between meetings to deeply investigate the restaurant. It was bitter work, going through the last two years of financial records, employee qualifications, salaries, customer demographics and feedback. But it was necessary. There was no way he was going into this blind like last time. If he was planning to succeed in his venture, he needed to be thorough.
Khushi was absolutely wonderful about his research. She listened patiently when he explained –usually over dinner after she returned from the hospital– his observations of the restaurant's monthly expenses, suggested closing the place down for at least month to train the chefs with a new menu and refurbish the entire sitting area. She agreed to his proposal and even suggested organizing small tastings of his menu to get more feedback.
He jumped on her idea at once. As Vihaan was set to leave for London tomorrow, Arnav felt it was only right to throw him a farewell dinner on behalf of his only remaining family. Khushi was overjoyed when he put forth the suggestion and wasted no time in inviting her brother over along with the entire gang of Raizada cousins, saying it was rude to not have met them in person post his discharge from the hospital. He had laughed in answer, knowing quite well that his cousins were not the type to take offence. They would simply show up uninvited and drag him to a weekend getaway without warning if they ever 'missed' him. It used to drive Myra up the wall back in the day.
And so, that's how Arnav found himself sandwiched in a conversation with Lavanya and Dev, both laughing hysterically over pranks that had gone awry during college, on an otherwise tranquil Saturday evening. The usually still penthouse was brimming with guests, all swarmed around in various corners. Having just finished dinner –he had presented an assortment of dishes from different cuisines, unable to make up his mind on one theme– they were all fully sated and completely lost in conversations.
Anjali was talking with NK and his girlfriend, Prachi, the latter of whom found out only very recently about his sister's orphanage. His two brothers-in-law, Shyam and Akash were immersed in a game of billiards with Arjun and his younger brother, Bhagi. They were joined by an eager Vihaan only a few minutes ago. Khushi was sitting in the living room with Mitali and Samriddhi –apparently her two 'besties'– along with Vihaan's wife, Ahana, who unlike her usual polite self was giggling away at some inside joke.
It was so gratifying to see all of his family under one roof, merrily chatting away, forgetting about life for a minute.
Of course, all of them had been utterly flabbergasted when he informed them of his restaurant a few days ago (he waited until the deal was signed before sharing the news). The first ones he had called, obviously, were his two sisters. While Lavanya had screamed in excitement –his ears buzzed for at least an hour after that conversation had ended– Anjali didn't seem surprised at all. She told him, quite frankly, that she expected Khushi would do as much, seeing just how close the two of them had come in the last few weeks. His mother, on the other hand, was a mixed bag of surprise, awe, and confusion when he spoke to her. Thankfully, however, she didn't admonish him for 'neglecting his duties' and wished him luck, adding (mostly for his benefit) that she would always be proud of him no matter what.
At last came the person, whose reaction he had feared the most: his father. Shankar, unpredictably, had listened very patiently when Arnav broke the news, assuring and reassuring him repeatedly that the family business wouldn't suffer as a result. His father didn't seem too worried about that and instead asked a few well-chosen questions, primarily about the finances of the place and how confident he was about the venture, before finally giving his blessing. Arnav, who was expecting an argument that would put even their fights while he was in college to shame, was both astounded and relieved to hear Shankar's consent. It felt as though destiny was tired to testing of him and had decided to give him an easy passage this time around.
"... and that's why you need to renovate. Um... Arnav? ARNAV?!"
Arnav broke out of his reverie to see that Dev had left the dining table, leaving him alone with Lavanya, for the first time in many days.
"Sorry, what?" he asked, confused.
She sighed, annoyed. "This penthouse is in a desperate need for renovation. When are you going to do it?"
"That is the last–"
"Seriously Arnav, this place is still set to Myra's–" –she made a face– "–taste. Don't you think it's time for a change?"
Arnav raked the penthouse, taking a second to see how each 'room' was designed. In a literal sense, the whole apartment was just one big space, with only two rooms being properly enclosed by four walls: the bedroom and the den. Everything else was simply arranged into separate corners, giving the illusion of space, but in reality, just breaking up the monotony. His mother deserved credit for that, in all honestly. She had painstakingly decorated the penthouse according to what she assumed was his liking.
Of course, once Myra moved in, she took the liberty to rearrange things as per her style, changing some colour schemes, adding in some cherished artwork and mostly, making the place a home of her liking. After her departure, Arnav never bothered to remove the items she chose, sometimes finding solace them, sometimes using them as a reminder of the scars she left behind, and nowadays, just treating them like what they were: innocent furniture.
But now, especially after hearing Lavanya put it like that, almost everything about the penthouse seemed wrong.
"I'm taking your silence as a yes," Lavanya said, tired of waiting for an answer. "So, when can I start redecorating?"
"Woah–" Arnav said, his eyes snapping back to her face. "Who said I'm giving you permission?"
"Oh please, who else loves you enough to do it?"
Arnav snorted. "Firstly, don't pretend as if you aren't getting excited about this like a kid in a candy store and secondly, you're asking the wrong person for permission."
Lavanya didn't follow.
"This is Khushi's house now. So, ask her what she wants to do with the place, not me."
It wasn't every day that his quirky, over-the-top sister is stunned into the silence. But when it does happen, it was sure worth watching.
"Whenever you're ready," Arnav joked, watching a dumfounded Lavanya.
She blinked. "Okay– what is going on with the two of you?!"
"What do you mean?"
Lavanya glared at him, looking as though she was speaking to a very dim-witted person. "First she gets all territorial over you with the hospital nurses, then you go around kissing her in public–"
"Who told you that?" Arnav cut in sharply,
"So, it's true?" Lavanya asked with a gasp.
He shrugged, refusing to answer.
"Wow... And here I was," she replied drily. "Thinking Di was drunk, and that you were going to announce your vow of celibacy any day."
"Ha ha... very funny."
"But seriously though... what is going on?! I need details!"
In hindsight, Arnav should have been expecting that question. Lavanya always jumped on to his 'feelings' even before he understood them himself. Unfortunately, he almost always didn't have a straight answer for her.
Lavanya held her hands up. "Wait– please tell me you have actually noticed that Khushi is different around you?"
Arnav reluctantly let his eyes waver back to his wife. She was looking extra pretty today, donned in a fitted A-line pastel yellow maxi dress with thin spaghetti straps for sleeves and threadwork motifs for design. The crown-jewel of her outfit, however, was neither of those things. It was only as she ran off to answer the door earlier in the evening that he had noticed it: the back of the dress, or rather the lack of it. Her dress plunged tantalizingly down her spine in a U-shape, connecting again around her lower waist, the flimsy fabric only held in place by delicate threads crisscrossing across her tawny skin. It also didn't help matters that she had chosen to tie her raven black hair up and away, in a high ponytail.
"She's different," he admitted finally. A small part of him had an uncanny feeling that she was dressing to impress him –she almost always wore a saree to the hospital nowadays, for example– but he didn't dare say it out loud.
"Different in a good way or bad?"
"Obviously good Lavu," he answered, making sure she spotted the annoyance on his face.
"So, what's the problem then?"
"Who said there is a problem?"
"How about a lack of 'I love you'?"
Arnav groaned. Had they all taken some kind of vow to pester him about the love thing? First it was Ved, and now his sister. And there was no doubt whatsoever about the follow-up question:
"Is this about Myra?" Lavanya asked seriously.
"Not in the slightest," he answered, taking a swing of his beer. "And please, don't ask me to compare. They are milesapart."
Lavanya scoffed. "Why on earth should I compare? Khushi is the winner, hands-down."
Arnav knew Lavanya would say that, after all, her dislike for Myra had never been a secret. But her words, brought forth the many grueling questions he had been struggling with for the past few days.
Arnav had grown up believing that love was eternal, that it happened once, that his heart would know when it did and most importantly, that it would stay until death came knocking. It was the principle that had pushed him to stay with Myra, even when things weren't going according to plan. It was the principle he saw with his parents, with his sisters and even his best friend, Ryan. So then, how was he even capable of 'loving' Khushi, if he had given his 'all' to Myra? And if, what he was feeling at this moment for Khushi was 'love', then did the last six years of his life mean nothing? Did his child mean nothing?
And what about Khushi in all this? Was he misunderstanding her sudden and strange affection for him? Moreover, hadn't she told him that night they celebrated her win at the hospital awards that 'there was no need to pretend'? That she valued his true feelings over his obligations any day? So then, was it right for him to hastily jump into what his family clearly wanted him to do, and realize –regretfully– later on that his feelings for Khushi were a mere infatuation, and that they were better off as companions than lovers? Wouldn't that be great injustice to her?
"Okay, say something," Lavanya growled, irritated.
He sighed. "Look Lavu, things between Khushi and I are going well... yes, things are different now than what they used to be, but why must you hurry through it and make me stamp it as love?"
"And here you go again with your stupid notions–"
"Excuse me?"
"Love doesn't need to happen just once Arnav, and it sure as hell, doesn't happen with first sight. I don't know who fed you that."
Arnav glared at her. "So was I imagining it then, when you told me that you felt your heart stutter the first time you met Akash?"
"That's different–"
"How is it different?" he argued. "You are allowed to have this whole premonition that Akash was your soulmate and I'm supposed to make do with whatever is convenient?"
"You are married to Khushi, Arnav! That's one hell of a premonition if you ask me–"
"Marriage that happened because I needed money! It was selfish Lavu, and to pass it off as destiny or God's will is even more selfish!"
Lavanya paused, unable to deny the truth of his words. "What's your point? Because in the end, you are married–"
"My point," he stressed, running his hands through his hair. "Is give me some time... Why are you breathing down my neck about moving on? Is there some deadline we are chasing?"
"That's not–"
"My relationship with Khushi is organic, Lavu– please get that straight once and for all. I will not tamper with it and have another Myra situation to deal with, okay? I had enough of that for a lifetime."
Lavanya took a deep, calming breath before saying with extra emphasis: "You won't have another Myra situation because it's written on both of your faces that you are in love. What more do you need?"
"Where on our faces is it written–"
"Remember the jealousy, the kissing, the redecorating...?"
Arnav rolled his eyes.
"So, please explain to me what exactly you are fearing here. Because you like Khushi and she definitely likes you–"
"Again, you don't know that–"
"Yes, I do."
"Have you learned mind reading in these past few days?"
"Urgh, you would know too if you paid attention dumbo! Khushi is different around you. It's like watching two halves of a whole... you look for a spoon, she comes running to you with one. You have a hard time phrasing a thought, she scoops in and finishes your sentence. You pick up a drink and she is ready with the ice... you see where I'm going here?"
Arnav stared at his sister, stumped. It was one thing to be suspicious of Khushi's growing fondness for him, but it was a whole other to have it confirmed. Was she really falling for him?
Their conversation, however, came to an abrupt end for Arnav was suddenly beckoned by Mitali, waving at him to come and join her, Sam, Khushi and Ahana in the living room.
"Let's talk later," he told his sister, standing up and making his way to the girls.
Lavanya followed without objection, slumping down on one of two cozy armchairs placed across from the sofa. Samriddhi was settled on the other, while Mitali, Khushi and Ahana occupied the couch. Arnav paused in his steps, unsure of where to sit.
"Sit beside Bhabhi na," Sam said, catching his hesitation. "Mitu, make some room."
Mitali shifted to one extreme corner of the sofa, followed by Ahana and Khushi –looking anywhere but him– making enough space for Arnav to gingerly perch down. It was tight, as was expected when four people squeezed in together on a three-seater couch. The entire left side of Arnav's body suddenly turned into a live wire, feverishly sensing Khushi brush against him.
It took all his concentration to keep his breathing steady, as he asked Mitali casually: "So, what's up?"
"We were just wondering if you had decided on a name for the restaurant?" she answered.
"Because we'd love to help you pick Bhai," Sam added brightly.
"Okay," Arnav said, wondering what crazy names they had in mind. "I'm listening."
"How about Bhai's?"
"Err– what?"
"You know," Sam explained. "Like how we are hanging out at Bhai's place.... get it?"
Arnav exchanged a pointed look with Lavanya to make sure he hadn't misheard. She seemed just as bemused as him.
"He is not a Bhai for the rest of the world Sam," Mitali –thankfully– intervened. "Be original."
Sam grimaced. "It is original... plus, it sounds epic."
"No," Lavanya piped in. "It sounds like a mafia don's lair."
Ahana and Mitali giggled, causing Sam to pout and retort: "Fine... what suggestions do you cool people have then?"
"Casa Raizada?" Mitali suggested.
Arnav pretended to ponder about it for a minute before saying, "Isn't Raizada a bit too much?"
"I guess," Mitali agreed, biting her lip. "We need to come up with something that's specific to the menu... have you finalized that?"
"Everything you cooked tonight, I hope?" Ahana said, looking at him with wide eyes. "It was delicious... I need some serious tips from you."
Arnav smiled, crossing his legs absentmindedly and turning himself towards a stiffly seated Khushi, stretching out his left arm to rest behind her head, atop the length of the sofa. The shift in position caused her to slide sideways and lean on his chest, resting most, if not all, of her weight on him.
It felt so cozy, so natural to be nestled in like that. It wasn't the first time they were sitting so close –Khushi had fallen asleep on his shoulder many times before, usually in the middle of watching TV on a late Friday night– but it was the definitely the first time he was feeling the knots in his stomach and the hitch in his breathing. A quick glance at the goosebumps on her exposed arms told him that Khushi, too, was far from nonchalance at the proximity.
"Please tell me those eclair cupcakes are on the menu," Sam pleaded. "I ate at least half a dozen of them today!"
Arnav unwillingly turned his attention back to his audience. "I kind of already had dessert finalized."
"Do tell," Lavanya said, sitting up higher.
"Kulfi."
A gasp escaped Khushi's mouth as she looked up at him through thick, black lashes. Were they always so fluttery?
"Kulfi?" Mitali repeated, puzzled. "But you can get that anywhere..."
"Not this one," Arnav answered, flashing Khushi a lopsided smile. "It will be one of the specials."
None of them –barring Khushi, of course– understood the significance. And he knew, it wouldn't be much of use explaining it to them either. Of all the things he had made, kulfi was by far Khushi's favorite. That was pretty much all the approval he needed to add it to the menu; a discussion about it was totally unnecessary.
"But," Sam protested. "You can have more than one item for dessert, right?"
"Of course, but I'm leaning towards a fusion cuisine," Arnav explained patiently. "Something that is cross cultural, something that lets me experiment and something you aren't going to find elsewhere... like those kale and paneer wraps you guys had today. It was unconventional, wasn't it?"
"And healthy," Ahana muttered. "Guess what Vihaan will be getting for dinner from now on."
The girls laughed.
"Unfortunately, cupcakes aren't a fusion dish," he concluded. "So, I don't think it will make the cut Sam."
Samriddhi sighed. "Damn... I'm gonna be dreaming about those cupcakes then. Look what you have turned me into Bhai."
Arnav chuckled, noticing from the corner of his eyes that Khushi was nervously twiddling with her thumbs. Why was she so flustered?
"Khushi liked them too actually," he said lightly. "Right?"
She nodded, clearing her throat. "Yes, but not as much as kulfi..."
"Oh." Lavanya was looking at the both of them with a wide smirk, perhaps realizing why kulfi made it to the menu without hesitance.
Arnav pretended not to notice.
"So basically, we need to come up with names for a fusion restaurant," Mitali concluded.
"A what restaurant?"
It was Bhagi, who seemed to have abandoned the pool table to join them along with Dev and Vihaan.
"Let me get some extra chairs," Arnav muttered, about to stand up.
"Nahh, I got it," Dev replied, walking over to the dining table and carrying over two chairs, one for himself and the other for Vihaan. Bhagi settled on the sofa arm, leaning onto Mitali.
"Bhai was just saying how he is planning fusion food for the restaurant," Sam explained. "So, we need to come up with an appropriate name."
Den was the first to answer. "How about Fusion Quakes?"
"What the hell is quakes?" Sam retorted, instantly.
"Duhh, like earthquakes... that's the gist of fusion food, isn't it? Unexpected taste."
"Right," Sam replied sarcastically. "And are the customers also supposed to quake in fear upon ordering?"
Dev scowled. "What was your idea again?"
Arnav groaned inwardly as Sam and Dev picked up their usual banter, letting his right arm slide down to rest on Khushi's bare shoulders. She froze infinitesimally upon feeling his skin on hers and began to fidget even more with her hands. It was so distracting.
Unable to see her so jittery, Arnav gently placed his right hand atop her clasped ones, weaving his fingers into hers. She didn't object, and instead, let him absentmindedly trace around her smooth knuckles, drawing aimless patterns.
"Okay cut it out," Lavanya said loudly.
Arnav turned his attention back to the conversation to see Dev and Sam freeze mid-argument, looking at Lavanya like children readying themselves for punishment.
"Have you both considered that maybe Arnav already has a name picked out?" Lavanya admonished.
Everyone turned their eyes on him, expectant.
"Well?" Dev said, when Arnav didn't bother to confirm. "Do you?"
Arnav took a deep breath, his gaze flickering towards Khushi. Like the rest, she too was looking at him curiously, waiting.
"I have a vague idea, yeah," he admitted. He had been thinking about it for a few days now... although the exact name was yet to make itself apparent, he knew what it would mean.
"Ouu tell us na, Bhai!" Sam asked, excited.
Everyone nodded their heads in agreement.
He risked another look at Khushi, before saying: "Unfortunately, it's a surprise... you'll find out in a month."
"On opening day?" Bhagi said, outraged. "But we are family!!"
"Exactly!" Dev added. "Don't be such a spoil sport and tell us."
"Thank your stars that I'm not a spoil sport and will be letting you eat at the restaurant for free."
Bhagi rubbed the back of his head, sheepish. "Oh... I guess I can live with that."
"Oh you better," Mitali cut in. "Arnav is going to cater our wedding one day, so don't piss him off."
Arnav grinned. "Don't fret Mitu... I'll do it for free if you can get Bhagi to settle on a date first."
As the conversation switched direction, with everyone pestering an already nervous Bhagi about his long overdue wedding announcement, Arnav couldn't help but tune out, and instead focused on the way his fingers played –on an accord of their own– with Khushi's. It was a marvel how she let him do that, not a flicker of annoyance on her face... was she enjoying his touch as much as he was, hers?
Perhaps, Lavanya did have a point (although he would never admit it out loud to her). Perhaps he really was acting naively by assuming that he couldn't love twice or that love had only one definition, for that matter. Hadn't Anjali warned him of the same that night of karva chauth when she stormed into his office and blasted him for not showing up to break Khushi's fast?
Love happens with time Chote! If I was stupid like you, then I would have lost a man like Shyam years ago. If you think Khushi is going to sit around waiting for you, then think again.
Yes, Khushi was kind and patient... yes, she chose trust and understanding. But wouldn't it only be a matter of time before she wanted a family?
Arnav took a deep breath, wondering how Khushi would react if he ever voiced out these questions. They were entering murkier waters with every passing day. Things between were no longer as simple as a pretend date in front of their families.
The hour hand was almost touching twelve, by the time Vihaan stood up, ready to call it a night.
"Not so soon!" Dev whined.
"You guys carry on," Vihaan answered. "Me and Ahana need to get going... last minute packing, you know."
Arnav nodded, feeling it was very generous of them to stay for this long in the first place.
"Thank you so much for everything," Ahana said. "It was so sweet of you to organize this... it really means a lot."
"It was all Arnav's idea," Khushi answered with a coy smile.
Ahana turned to him, brimming with gratitude.
"Don't be silly," he said quickly. "It's the least we can do."
"Still, thank you Arnav... I can't wait to see what you do with the restaurant."
Flashing him a smile, Ahana then sped off to bid goodbye to the rest of the family members, while Arnav and Vihaan made their way to the entrance hall, Khushi in tow.
"Listen," Vihaan told his sister. "You don't need to come and see us off at the airport tomorrow, we'll manage–"
Khushi scoffed. "Don't even. I'm coming."
"We are coming," Arnav corrected gently.
She grinned. "Yes... please don't make me yell at you Vihaan, because I can."
Vihaan sighed, but accepted it all the same. Perhaps, he had finally learned that arguing with Khushi was just as useless as banging one's head against a brick wall. "Do you think Papa will come?"
Khushi shrugged, adopting the same tone she used every time Alok was brought up in the conversation: "Maybe."
Arnav frowned. While she had made it a habit to visit her mother once a week, there was still no progress in terms of her father. Khushi refused to talk about it, always diverting the attention to his restaurant whenever he asked her about Alok and even refusing to give him permission to tag along with her to Gupta manor. She argued persistently that this was something she needed to handle on her own, so he was left with no choice but to play along.
After all, how long had it taken him to come to terms with his relationship with Myra? And there really was no rule anywhere that said that everyone should handle conflicts the same way.
"Oh crap," Khushi said, suddenly stopping mid-step. "I was supposed to pack up the leftover wraps for Ahana– I'll be right back!"
And with a swish of her dress, she was gone.
"So, what time do you have to check-in tomorrow?" Arnav asked Vihaan, making small talk as they waited.
"At 2 p.m.... Will it make any difference if I ask you not to bother coming?"
"Nope. We will be there Vihaan... we are family now."
He paused ominously. "We are... and I'm really hoping you will never forget that."
Arnav was puzzled. "Err– I'm not sure what you mean?"
"I'm talking about Khushi," Vihaan clarified, looking directly at him now. "You'll take care of her, won't you?"
"Where is this coming–"
"Because I can't leave her here wondering, no fearing, that you might change your mind one day... that you will have had enough with the merger and the strings my father is undoubtedly pulling on you and your family."
And it abruptly clicked: the agony that must be tearing apart Vihaan as a brother to leave his sister behind, against his better judgement.
"Vihaan," Arnav said, seriously and earnestly. "Khushi means the world to me–"
"Does she really?"
"Yes. I mean... yeah, we had a rocky start, but we are past that now. Believe me, I will never, ever leave Khushi... not unless she asks me to, of course, but you have nothing to fear. Mine and Khushi's relationship is no longer dictated by your father, so frankly, I couldn't care less–"
Vihaan exhaled loudly, not letting him finish. "Okay good, because technically, Khushi is free to leave this... and live on her own."
That was news.
"What?"
A line appeared on Vihaan's forehead. "Didn't Khushi tell you this already? The merger and your marriage happened on the condition that I be named the next CEO of my father's company. Now that it isn't happening, Khushi is free to walk out."
Oh.
Arnav couldn't believe he didn't make the connection sooner. Khushi had told him about that condition, but in light of their budding closeness, he didn't think this technicality would matter much.
"I don't want to sound sentimental here," Vihaan continued. "But it's important for me to know that you understand just exactly what Khushi has given up for you."
"Given what up?"
Vihaan crossed his arms. "Coming to London with me for starters... because she wants to give this marriage a chance. She chose you over her freedom."
Arnav couldn't believe what he was hearing. Khushi had the option to leave, but she chose to stay?! How was he justfinding that out? Why didn't she tell him herself? Suddenly, her words from the hospital that day took on a whole other meaning:
I chose trust and understanding. That's what you have given me Arnav... and that's why I'm happy here.
Didn't that mean... she chose him –with all his flaws and failures, with all his despair and disappointments– above everything else? If that wasn't a sign she wanted more, then what was?!
"Where's Khushi?" came Ahana's voice. Having finished with her goodbyes, she joined them in the entrance hall, ready to leave.
Khushi skidded to a halt just a moment later, carrying a plastic box of the leftovers she had gone to collect.
"Here," she said, shoving the box into Ahana's hands. "Just for you... don't let Vihaan touch it."
Ahana chuckled and pulled her into a bear hug, holding her close for a whole minute. "I really am going to miss you so much Khushi."
Khushi patted her gently, saying once they stepped away: "No tears, okay? And that means you too Vihaan... save it for the flight tomorrow."
Vihaan grinned and hugged his sister. "Take care little sis."
Arnav waited until they got all of their things and stepped out into the hallway towards the elevators before speaking, choosing his words with great care:
"I understand Vihaan," he murmured quietly, outside of Khushi's earshot. "And I want you to know that I'm in this for a lifetime too, don't worry. Your sister is in good hands... I'll see you at the airport tomorrow."
Vihaan nodded curtly, partly in relief and partly in gratitude, before setting off with a confused looking Ahana. Arnav closed the front door, and turned to find Khushi looking at him, slightly crestfallen.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"That's the last time I'm gonna see him leave through that door," she replied, gloomily. "I just realized..."
He took a step closer, gently stroking her cheek. "What happened to your no tears policy?"
"Please," she muttered with an unconvincing roll of her eyes. "How many times have you actually seen me cry?"
"Yeah, yeah, I get it... you are a tough cookie."
She snorted, but upon catching his eye, her expression softened. "And you, apparently, are a sweet cookie."
Arnav was surprised. "For what?"
"For making my kulfi a special on your menu... and for telling Lavanya that this house is mine to redecorate as I please."
He couldn't help but smile. "Well, you see Dr. Gupta, I give credit where it's due."
Khushi –unexpectedly– took a step closer to him, leaving not even an inch of space in between them. "And so do I Mr. Chef."
Then to his amazement, she leaned in and kissed him without hesitation on the cheek. "That's for making dinner absolutely scrumptious." She proceeded to peck him on the other cheek, before saying: "And this is for not agreeing to Dev's idea and naming the restaurant Fusion Quakes."
If the lights weren't dim, Arnav would have shared a great resemblance with a tomato, caught in between laughter and breathlessness. It was actually quite a miracle that his heart hadn't jumped out from his chest.
Khushi saved him the embarrassment, however, by turning on her heels and gliding back to the living room, her backless dress swinging in her wake, tempting him with added flair.
They were all right. Ved, Lavanya, Anjali and now, even Vihaan... It was high time he stopped making excuses for what was brewing in between Khushi and him. He owed her, and for that matter, even himself, another chance.
This time a true one, a fair one.
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A/N: Firstly, thank you for waiting patiently and for the wonderful, thoughtful and encouraging comments to the last chapter! I hope I made up for the wait with his chapter, quite an important turning point for Arnav.
What did you guys think?
Unfortunately, I'm going to be taking a two-week break from writing. I just have a lot of things going on personally, and I think, for my own mental sanity, I need to just step back for a few days... I promise, this won't be a permanent break. I will back very soon, with the last leg of this story.
Apologies in advance to keep you waiting, hope all of you are safe and healthy ❤️❤️❤️
Lots of love and hugs,
Archi